


A Friend Named Sam

by Chereche



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chereche/pseuds/Chereche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt helps Sam during Sectionals, but ends up being the one to benefit the most. What happens next causes him to re-consider his relationship with Dalton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Summary: Kurt helps Sam during Sectionals, but he ends up being the one benefitting the most.

Kurt really couldn’t comment on the Warblers’ performance after they exited the stage. He hadn’t performed at his best; the fact that Rachel was prompting him from the audience was proof enough of that. Briefly his eyes flashed to the remainder of his friends, and the barest hint of a smile crossed his lips at the smiles they had thrown his way. The feeling quickly dissipated though as he heard Wes’ voice from somewhere ahead of him, bringing his mind back to the performance. He hadn’t been his best, but, he told himself, as he lagged behind the chattering group, he had done the best he could under the circumstances. He resisted the urge to sigh as the Warblers ahead of him turned into their dressing room. He really didn’t want to go in there and hear the Council dissect their performance. It just wasn’t a style he was accustomed to – none of it was. And so, in a vain effort to escape it for a while, he continued on after the last of them trailed into the room.

“Kurt?”

His footsteps halted then at the call. Plastering back on that fake smile that had earned him a reproaching finger wave from Rachel minutes before, Kurt turned. Blaine was standing just outside of the room, his expression showing confusion. “Yes Blaine?” he asked, not really meeting his gaze.

“You passed the room,” he pointed out.

“Bathroom,” Kurt said quickly.

“Do you know the way?” Blaine inquired, his triangular brows coming together. “No one really showed us around.”

“I know where it is,” he replied. “Sectionals took place here last year as well,” he added.

“Oh,” Blaine allowed, his tone somewhat doubtful. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit off.”

“I’m fine Blaine,” he replied quickly, as it seemed as if Blaine would approach him. He would have no escape then. “I just need the bathroom, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

From inside of the room, they heard Blaine’s name call. Of course, they wouldn’t have noticed his absence, Kurt thought. He was just the weird newbie trying to be unique. “Go on,” he bid. “You’re needed.”

“We usually have a post-partum after any performance,” Blaine explained. “You really should be there, especially since it’s your first.”

“I won’t be too long,” Kurt told him, turning away before he could say anything else and hurrying down the corridor. There was no way he was going to hang around for what was bound to be an ode to Blaine and a critique of him finding some inexplicable way of standing out and breaking the team’s otherwise cohesive unity.

He had been mostly truthful though, he thought, as he turned down into the next corridor. He was anything but fine, but Blaine of all people did not need to know that. He by-passed the bathrooms, seeking out the small room he and Mercedes had escaped to the last time when the fighting had got to be a bit too much. He stopped short when he found Sam in the corridor leading to it, looking around him in confusion, clutching what looked to be Quinn’s make up bag to him.

“Sam?” he called out hesitantly, watching him.

Sam’s head rose immediately, and a relieved smile formed on his face. “Kurt,” he returned, bouncing over to him. “You’re lost too? I was trying to find the bathroom.”

“It’s confusing,” Kurt evaded, avoiding his question. “How are you?”

“Not good,” he sighed. “Quinn told me not to rub my face, but I forgot. She’ll be mad if she sees that I rubbed off the cake thing.”

Kurt frowned, leaning in closer so that he could inspect his face. “Since when do the guys wear make-up to perform? They usually go out there in all of their greasy glory.”

Sam snorted at that. “They do when there’s a shiner to hide,” he replied, turning his face fully towards Kurt now.

Kurt hissed in sympathy, his hand rising instinctively to it. “Is this…?” he inquired, his voice lowering slightly.

Sam swallowed before nodding. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It looks worse than it is. Coach said that I’m just one of those easily bruised people. I’m just glad that it’s more blue than purple now. I don’t like purple but blue’s okay.”

Kurt eyed him incredulously for a moment. That seemed like an almost Brittany thing to say. “I prefer lavender,” he told him, “but you did a good job of rubbing off Quinn’s handiwork.”

“I know,” he groaned, throwing back his head in despair. “I didn’t mean to. I lied and said I was going to the bathroom and snuck her bag out. I guess I missed you performing.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Kurt said with a slight head shake, taking the bag from him to rifle within it.

“Well we certainly have the equipment needed to fix this,” he declared after a moment. He froze then, before shooting Sam a hesitant look. “I mean if you want me to?” he tacked on. “No, what am I saying? Look, I’ll say that it’s my fault okay? I saw a bit of a smudge and rubbed too much off. Quinn will fix it then and you won’t be in any trouble.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Sam bid, cutting off his rambling. “You can do make-up?”

His honest curiosity had Kurt looking at him in surprise. Where was the mocking censure? “Yeah,” he confirmed. “I usually help with the girls’ hair and make-up. Costume designs as well.”

Sam bounced cheerfully. “This is great then. You can do me, right? Please?”

Kurt nodded. “I can, but…you want me to?”

“Of course,” he replied, looking at him as if he was being stupid. “If it’s not a bother to you? Aren’t you supposed to be with the Warblers?”

“No,” he reassured. “I have time. Come on, the lighting is better further down.”

Five minutes later found the pair sitting cross-legged on the floor, Kurt nipping his lower lip in concentration as he dabbed a first layer of make-up onto his skin.

“I’m really sorry I missed you performing,” Sam said softly, careful not to move his face too much.

“I told you,” Kurt responded, “it was nothing, _trust me_. I was just background anyway.”

“Why? You’re Faith Hill, Kurt, and she’s no backgrounder.”

Kurt chuckled at the memory of Sam’s first week at McKinley and their failed duet. “Thanks, Sam. But I’m always in the background. It doesn’t matter; it was the same way in the New Directions too, remember?”

Sam hissed slightly as Kurt pressed a little too deep against his delicate skin before responding. “I’m learning that,” he admitted. “Rachel linked me to the club’s Youtube page.”

“Yeah?” Kurt responded, pausing to consult the time. There were three performances between the Warblers and the New Directions. They had about fifteen minutes left if Sam wanted to make an inconspicuous return.

“You’re always in the background for any public stuff.”

“I’m not solo material,” he said bitterly. “My voice is wrong, or else I’m doing weird things that will distract from the whole group. More reason for me to be a Broadway star,” he added with a forced laugh. “There’s only one spotlight then.”

“Your voice is good, Kurt.”

“Not good enough, never good enough,” Kurt murmured, reaching for a next product. “How are you settling into McKinley?”

“Good, I guess,” he replied, frowning minutely at the switch in conversation direction. “According to Quinn I’m in a good position. Quarterback, dating her and…”

“And…?” Kurt pressed as he hesitated.

Sam sighed. “You know there’s this dude with a blog thing, right?”

“I know,” he replied without looking up.

“Well…he apparently got wind of what you did. Except he said that I broke off the duet and, well…”

“You stopped yourself from getting the gay,” Kurt finished in a monotone. “It’s no wonder you’re okay. You’ve cemented yourself a good position, glee aside.”

Sam frowned. “How did you know that?”

“I fed that to him,” Kurt admitted. “It took me a while to admit it, but I really was being unfair to you. The least I could do was make sure I hadn’t tossed you to the sharks. And I guess it worked, didn’t it? I’m good for something.”

“Wait,” Sam said, grabbing onto Kurt’s hand. “You planned it? I thought you…is that why you didn’t do the solo with me?” he demanded.

“Yeah,” Kurt admitted, his gaze lowered. “I didn’t want to believe what Finn was saying until my dad agreed. You were new, and I was trying to take advantage of that. I knew what would happen if you hung around me, and I did it anyway, and tried to make you do that stupid duet. It’d have been social suicide for you, but I didn’t care at first. But I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t deliberately make your time a living hell…and I didn’t want you to hate me when you realised what I had done. So I backed out and spread that rumour, made the opposite happen. Now let me go; I really need to get this done.”

Sam was silent for a long minute, and Kurt was nearly finished when he spoke again. “I would have done the duet anyway you know.”

“What?” Kurt said in surprise.

“I would have done it still. I was going to do it, even though Finn and some of the footballers warned me against it.”

“Why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Sam said. “At least that is what I think I would have thought then. Now…now I’m just sad.”

“Why?” Kurt repeated, his voice low and questioning.

“Because you’re wrong Kurt. You weren’t trying to be mean. You were trying to make a friend. I think I already knew that actually. You were always alone, even when you were with someone. I saw how no one really helped you; some of them even insulted you.”

“Santana insults everyone,” he interjected.

“And Puck? Finn? Even Tina was mean to you a day. They never really cared. Mercedes was right there when you got that locker slam. I think that’s why you were so interested in me. I was new and I didn’t know that being around you meant worse social suicide than the glee club. Everyone else stayed away from you outside of the group setting. It’s like they were proving that they weren’t fully with you so that they didn’t get bashed for being your friend. So you wanted to duet with me because you knew I hadn’t learnt yet, hadn’t learnt that it was safer to stay away from you. I think you were hoping that I would give you a chance and that I’d still be your friend when I saw how bad things got. And that’s why I fought Karofsky. I wanted to do something for you after failing you with the duet. Kurt- you’re crying,” he finished.

“I am not,” Kurt responded in an emotion laden tone, his fingers reaching out to press in the last of the make-up. He deliberately ignored the fact that tears were indeed tracking down his cheeks and that his gaze was quickly growing cloudy. “I’m not crying,” he repeated, his face crumpling slowly. “I-I didn’t think anyone saw that. You’re right. I just wanted a friend. That’s all I wanted.”

“I knew you weren’t fine,” he said. “I saw it the moment I dropped off that pizza at Dalton. You look as miserable now as you were in McKinley.”

“No one’s bullying me,” Kurt protested.

“But you’re still alone,” Sam finished sadly. “Why else would you walk me back to my car and watch me leave? Why else would you be alone now? Kurt, you’re hurting aren’t you.”

Kurt choked back a sob then even as he nodded, feeling the barriers carefully erected breaking down. Finally, finally he had found someone who he could speak to. “I’m miserable,” he gasped out. “I’m all alone and this time I don’t even have my dad. Why am I always the one being punished? I was the one getting hurt. _I_ was the one with bruises and a death threat, but he’s-he’s at McKinley with all of his friends and I’m two hours away in boarding school. I finally get a mother and now I see her two days for the week. Not even that because I got to leave home Sunday evenings to come back to Dalton.

“The classes are harder and I just don’t fit in. I don’t know what I’m doing. There are a bunch of rules I don’t know. I keep get telling told to fit in and I don’t know how to do that. I’m so tired. Why does this keep happening to me? Why can’t I just be happy?”

Kurt’s sobs increased throughout his tearful ramble, so by the end tears were streaming steadily down his face. Sam reached out abruptly, tugging him closer to him.

“N-no,” Kurt protested. “It’s been too long. You got to go perform.”

“Shut up Kurt,” Sam said simply, and with a hard tug, pulled Kurt so that he was pressed against him in a slightly awkward position, his head nestled against Sam’s neck. “Just let go,” he bid, rocking slightly.

Kurt protested for a moment longer before he allowed himself to break down, gut wrenching sobs shaking him as Sam held on to him, holding him solid to stop him from falling completely apart.

When his sobs had subsided a bit, Kurt became aware of Sam speaking softly to him. “That’s it Kurt, just cry it out. I think you’ve been holding this in for far too long. It’s not healthy, you know.”

“No one to talk to,” he gasped out between sobs.

“That’s not true,” he told him. “Your dad will listen.”

“Can’t,” he rebutted, pulling back to look at him, sniffling heavily. “Can’t get stressed. It’s too soon.”

“I heard Finn saying that his last tests showed improvements. He can listen.”

“No stress,” Kurt repeated tearfully. “I can’t see him there again Sam.”

“Something else you’ve been keeping inside,” Sam stated as Kurt started back sobbing. He brought him back to his previous position, jostling him soothingly.

He held Kurt there until he had calmed more this time before pulling him back. Kurt knew that he looked a right mess. He could not remember a time since his mother’s death when he had cried so much. His nose was probably all red.

“Your whole face is,” Sam told him, laughing briefly at Kurt’s wide eyed gaze. “Talking aloud,” he told him as he took the handkerchief Kurt was grappling with. “Let me,” he bid.

Kurt froze as Sam gently moved the piece of cloth across his face and down his neck, patting away his tears and snot. “Much better,” he cooed when he was done. “There’s no hiding the fact you cried though,” he told him when Kurt sat back.

“I’ll think of something,” Kurt said thickly. “Wait, what time is it?” he gasped a second later, one hand rubbing at his eyes. “Sam, you got to go. It’s near stage time for you.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Sam told him firmly, but Kurt was distracted, tugging at his shirt.

“Thank Gaga the shirt is black or else you’d never be able to hide that wet spot. I cried all over you,” he despaired.

“Wow, Kurt,” Sam said, reaching out to grasp his arms and shook him slightly. “Forget my clothes, forget the competition. How are you feeling?”

Kurt stared at him for a moment before frowning. “Lighter,” he finally said, after thinking about it. “It’s still there, but I don’t feel it weighing me down as much.”

“Good.”

“Sam,” Kurt began. “I-thank you. No one has-“

Sam stopped him there. “You don’t need to say anything Kurt. This is what friends do, yeah? Take care of each other?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Then consider this my repayment for you ensuring that I’m not swimming in slushies.”

Kurt chuckled at that, a slightly watery sound. “You really have to go.”

Sam nodded, finally acknowledging that his phone was vibrating in his pocket. “Where am I dropping you?” he asked as they rose. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Kurt started fiddling with his fingers as they started walking. “I told them I was going to the bathroom.”

“It’s going to be hard explaining twenty five minutes.”

“I was ill?” he offered hesitantly.

“You’re not a very good liar,” Sam said, slinging his arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer to him. “What’s going on? Why don’t you want to go back to them?”

“I don’t belong,” he admitted. “I don’t even know why they let me in. I’m a square peg trying to fit in a round hole.” He sniffled slightly, causing Sam to start rubbing his hand against his arm.

Kurt leant a bit further into him at that, enjoying the small bit of affection.

“Why don’t you watch us from backstage?” Sam suggested after a moment’s thought. “I doubt they’re still in the dressing rooms, so just stick with me until the results. Rachel was saying on the bus that most of the other groups weren’t that good so your new team is bound to get called on stage for the top three, and hopefully we’ll be there too. So just stick around until then okay? No-one’s going to say anything.”

“The Warblers won’t like it,” he said softly.

“They can suck it,” Sam declared. “You always seem off when you’re talking about them. I don’t think that group’s really good for you.”

“I just need to learn to fit in.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Not every group can be built around a group of oddballs Sam. It works with us, but it’s not for the Warblers. Unless I want to limit my singing to the bathrooms, I got to fit in. It’s the only talent I got.”

“Hello, does fashion ring a bell?”

“There isn’t exactly a fashion club.”

“Make one,” Sam told him. “And there they are,” he added, as they turned down the final corridor, only to be assaulted by the New Directions’ usual rambunctiousness.

Quinn descended upon them in moments, followed closely by Rachel. Sam waved them off easily enough though, grinning through an explanation about his make-up and getting lost and then Kurt fixing the mess he had made of it. They bought it easily, although Kurt found Rachel coming to him, frowning.

“You’ve been crying,” she declared quietly.

“Yeah.”

“You looked sad on stage.”

“Yeah.”

She hesitated then. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“You have to perform now,” he deflected.

“I don’t have a solo,” she sniffed.

“You still need to go perform.”

“Kurt’s going to watch from here,” Sam added, coming over to them. “Mr. Shue said it’s fine. I’ll see you after, okay?”

“Yes Sam,” he agreed.

“You should come back to Lima with us,” Rachel announced suddenly, as the rest of the team slowly drifted toward the stage while Sam and Quinn disappeared through a back door. A next rear entry entrance, Kurt noted idly. The announcements were nearly over after all.

“Rachel-“

“I’m serious,” she declared. “You don’t look well. Don’t go back to Westerville. It’s a Friday anyway. Come back to Lima with us. We’ll pull a girl’s night at your place we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

Kurt hesitated, although a part of him really wanted to say yes. “I don’t know if the Warblers would like that.”

“Who cares?” she shrugged, pulling him along as she walked towards the stage area. “You’re my concern.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll have to call my dad, but…okay.”

“Good. Now go stand with Mr. Shue so we can see you cheering us on.”

“No problem,” he said, squeezing her hand before allowing her to run on stage.

Watching them perform was bittersweet. It was disconcerting to have a non-Finchel performance, but once he had gotten over that fact, he had clapped and (softly) cheered them on. More than once, one of them glanced over to where he was and grinned, and those small gestures warmed him, reminding him that maybe he did have people he could talk to.

Sam’s prediction proved right. Being the last to perform, the New Directions were not re-seated and he was able to remain with them (although he was rather quiet) until it was time for the top three to be announced. Regretfully, he slipped back into the Warbler pile as they walked onstage, although, breaking the formation, he stood at the edge of the group, putting himself directly besides Sam who offered him a small smile. He pointedly ignored looking at anyone else, although more than once, he sensed eyes on him. It didn’t matter though, for moments later he found himself swept up into a hug, surprisingly by Sam, when it was announced that both teams were advancing. Briefly Kurt wondered if anyone in the audience would find it strange that a Dalton boy was being passed around by the opposing team, but he let the thought go as Finn thumped him on the back.

In between a twirl around with Brittany, he saw Mr, Shue and Rachel shaking hands with some of the council members, and he nearly missed a step as he saw Blaine watching him intently. He looked away quickly, painfully aware that his face was far from normal and that he had never returned to the dressing room. There would be consequences for that, he knew, but strangely enough, the put of dread he usually associated with the Warblers did not emerge. He would deal with the fall out come Monday, because his dad had already answered his text telling him that he would inform Dalton that Kurt would not return to the school that day. He would drop him back in time for class on Monday, a fact that widened Kurt’s grin just a little bit more.

He was glad minutes later that he had brought nothing with him that could not fit into his pocket, and so, it had only taken him a quick conversation with the French teacher who had been sent as a chaperone before Sam was tugging him away, dragging him in the direction of their bus. There were small moments of awkwardness when Puck demanded to know why he was there, and Santana asked after the reddish hue and swollenness of his eyes, but they relented quickly, leaving him to relax as they made the thirty minute journey back to Lima with his head pillowed against Mercedes’ shoulder as he drifted quickly into an exhausted sleep.

oOo

Kurt was not paying much attention when he answered his phone blindly, his focus on a particularly complicated set of equations before him.

“Hello?”

“Bad time, Kurt?”

Kurt dropped the pencil he had been holding immediately, completely alert now. “Sam? No…now’s not a bad time.”

“Good,” came the warm reply. “I told you I would check up on you, so I am. How was the girls’ night?”

A smile rose unbidden to his lips as he thought about Friday afternoon. With only the slightest bit of prodding, he launched into a detailed explanation of the night. His dad’s shop was on the route back to Lima so he had dropped off there. His dad had been a welcomed sight, and after hugging him profusely, he had traded his uniform for a pair of spare overalls before diving beneath the hood of a car. The comfortable familiarity eased the last of Kurt’s stress, and with his usual candour, he had been able to outline the competition and its results for his father, as well as talk about his school week. He had though skipped around the crying bits, but he knew that his father was aware that something was not quite right with him. His sudden request to come home, coupled with the fact that their home would be invaded by a horde of teenage girls was proof enough of that fact, but there was also the fact that Burt, knowing his son thoroughly, had noted the slight redness that still clung stubbornly to his eyes. Burt accepted without much fuss though his later explanation that seeing his friends had assaulted him with an extreme case of home-sickness. He was just glad to have his son home.

And then there was the actual sleepover. Kurt had expected Rachel and Mercedes, perhaps even Tina, however all the Glee girls (save Lauren) had shown up, bearing food, cosmetics, movies and everything else required for an emergency sleepover. And once he had gotten over his initial reluctance to speak, Kurt had poured out his heart to them, talking about everything from his failed audition, Blaine’s statements about him needing to fit in, the general difficultness of the curriculum, and (most importantly) the stifling of his artistic freedom.

“We didn’t get to sleep until two Saturday morning,” Kurt finished, rocking back onto his chair.

“What was the consensus?” Sam asked. “Quinn wouldn’t tell me. Girl Code.”

Kurt laughed at that before sobering. “The general consensus was that I get my butt back to McKinley, but we all know that’s not going to happen.”

“Unfortunately,” he agreed. “What else?”

“Well…Santana thinks I need to go all Lima Heights Adjacent in the next Warbler meeting if they say anything about Friday. Quinn thinks I should plan a rebellion. Brittany thinks I should be wearing a yellow uniform.”

“That’s Brit for you,” he laughed.

“Yeah,” Kurt agreed, chuckling. “Mercedes and Rachel think I ought to leave the club.”

“What?”

The shock in his exclamation were clear. Kurt hesitated before continuing. “They think that the club is no good for me. I don’t like it. I feel like I’m always getting put down, and Mercedes thinks that my solo audition might have been a plan to feed me some humble pie. Plus they said I just didn’t look happy performing, and if I didn’t enjoy it, I might as well quit the Warblers. There are other art clubs. It’s not as glamorous or popular, but from the little I’ve seen they seem a bit more up with the equality thing.”

“It sounds like you’re considering it,” Sam said softly, his tone not giving away his opinion on the matter.

“I think I am,” Kurt agreed. “Blaine called me. Twice. I had my phone off during the sleepover and he left a message that he’d call back. I just didn’t answer yesterday. He said that he, Wes, David, Thad and I needed to have a conversation tomorrow.”

“Blaine’s the guy who was looking at us that night?” Sam asked, remembering a dark haired teenager who watched as Kurt escorted him back to his car.

“Yes. He’s basically the Warbler’s lead singer although they all seem to enjoy pretending that he’s not.”

“Who are the other three?”

“They’re the Warbler council. They don’t have a faculty advisor so the council makes all the decisions.”

“And why do they need to meet with you? Did he say?”

Kurt snorted derisively at that. “Why wouldn’t they? I probably broke all sorts of rules on Friday.”

“Kurt,” Sam said seriously, “they’re students. They can’t do anything to you.”

“You don’t understand Dalton, Sam. These guys rule the school. Warblers leave class at will, don’t hand in assignments and all other kinds of things. If they want to punish me, they can.”

“Dude, _they cannot touch you_. And if they try to, get a teacher. I’m serious Kurt, and if you can’t promise me you’ll do that, I swear I’ll tell Finn.”

“Sam-“

“No Kurt,” he interjected. “These Warbler guys sound abusive, psychologically if not physically.”

Kurt had no response to that, recalling how Rachel had mentioned a similar thing. The Warblers weren’t that bad, he thought, but the more people he talked to about the situation, the more than consensus seemed to arise.

“I’m just…different Sam,” he said softly. “I’m not Dalton material, and I’ve got to learn fast. They’re just giving me a crash-course in acceptable behaviour. I think if I was there since freshman year I’d be a perfect fit for them. I just need to learn fast.”

“Do not make excuses for them,” Sam demanded. “Kurt, I’ve only known you a few weeks but you are perfect just the way you are. You’re funny, witty, talented, and you have a big heart. Yes you have your own quirks, but that is what makes you _Kurt_. You don’t have to stifle that for anybody. You left McKinley because people were hurting you for not fitting in. And until the day you left here, you were the same. So why are you letting these rich dudes change you?”

“If enough people say that something is wrong with you, doesn’t it stand that they may have a point?”

“Bullshit,” Sam spat, surprising Kurt at the venom in his tone. “If that was true Einstein wouldn’t be a genius, and that Titanic movie would have never gotten finished. You are you and you don’t need anyone else to tell you who you should be. You understand me, Kurt? You’re loved and cared for, I wouldn’t be talking to you now if that wasn’t the case, and the girls wouldn’t have dropped everything for a sleepover as well otherwise. You’re fine the way you are and you need to remember it. You’re Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, and you are fabulous. Don’t let some Blazer wearing assholes make you believe you are anything but that.”

Kurt was silent for long moments after that, tears stinging at his eyes. He didn’t realise had needed to hear those words until they had been said.

“Thanks Sam,” he whispered, his tone laden with emotion.

“No problem,” he told him sincerely. “Kurt, I meant every word of it. You’re a wonderful person, ridiculously so. I-“

“What?” Kurt pressed when Sam cut himself off abruptly.

He heard a loud sigh over the phone before Sam spoke again. “I was going to say that anyone would be lucky to have you…and I mean it. This may be wholly inappropriate given what we’re discussing, but, you’re worth a lot more than you realise Kurt. Those first few days in McKinley- you really were a godsend for me. I knew you had a crush on me. No one needed to tell me that. And, to be honest, I was considering going after you. I mean, hey, who wouldn’t? But then I saw Quinn and that was it.”

Kurt slowly released a breath he did not know he was holding. “Y-you really mean that Sam?” he asked, a warm pool of happiness curling within him. “You liked me?

“I do…I did,” he admitted softly. “I had a small crush on you as well, but things just weren’t right, you know? But yeah, you need to have some confidence in yourself Kurt. You’re worth a lot more than you seem to think, so I want you to remember that okay? You don’t need to change. Someone will love you for who you are.”

“Okay,” Kurt said simply, because really, what more was there to say?

He ended the call with Sam a few minutes later with the promise to call him as soon as he could after his meeting with Blaine and the council. He stared at his phone for a long while though, his lips quirking up intermittently in a smile. It was hard to believe really, but Sam had had a crush on him? Someone had seen him as more than the fag with the weird wardrobe? Even if nothing had come of it, it did warm Kurt that Sam had, if only briefly, considered him attractive. That thought was enough to ensure that a smile remained fixed on his lips for the remainder of the day and gave him the courage to hold his head high the next day.


	2. My name is Kurt

Blaine had not been comfortable with letting Kurt wander off by himself, especially with the odd way he seemed to be acting, but with Thad all but pulling him into the dressing room, there was little he could actually do. He listened with a half an ear as the Council started dissecting the audience’s reaction to their performance, and calculating their odds of winning. Blaine could not bring himself to contribute. Kurt had seemed off for a long while now, he noted, but it seemed to be growing worse, today being the pinnacle of it. He had barely said a word during their last minute rehearsal this morning, and had not even looked up when Wes had thrown a critique his way. All he had said was a quiet, “Sorry, okay,” before continuing on.

And then, once they had entered their bus, Kurt had settled into the front single seat beside the driver, even though there were still more than enough seats in the back. No one sat there, ever, but Kurt had seemed perfectly content, earphones firmly fixed in his ears. David had noted it with some displeasure. Kurt had essentially cut himself out from last minute instructions, and, by the time they had arrived at their destination, there was really not that much time to fill him in on any details…not that Kurt seemed to care about that, as he, almost regretfully, put away his phone.

His rather anti-social behaviour had lasted through their seating. Their odd number had left it necessary for them to spill on into the row before them, and with barely a glance, Kurt had settled himself into the end seat, their chaperone beside him. He seemed to ignore everything around him after that, showing life only when the other teams started pouring him. He had been pulled out of his chair by a rather curvaceous New Directions member and found himself in the first of many hugs. Blaine had to admit that that was the first time that he had seen a smile on Kurt’s face in a long time, and he swore he had actually heard him laugh when a particularly tall teenager lifted him off his feet briefly. The air about him seemed a bit lighter then, although that quickly dimmed once his former team left him on his own again. Besides him, Wes was muttering about how unmannerly the entire display had been, and while Blaine agreed that a Dalton boy should not have been caught up in such a rambunctious display, it was nice to see Kurt’s interactions with the people he had left behind.

But something had happened between then and the time it took them to return to their dressing room post-performance, Blaine thought as he brought himself back to the present. In between spins, he had glanced several of the New Directions sporting peculiar expressions, and one of them even seemed to be mouthing something. A shuffle across the stage confirmed that it was Kurt their attention had been focussed on, but the performance had ended before he could fully investigate, and by then, Kurt had once again separated himself from the pack, offering a paltry excuse before he hurried off, not leaving much time for Blaine to question him further. Speaking of which…

Blaine quickly consulted the time, noting that just about twelve minutes had elapsed. Surely that was enough time for Kurt to get to the bathroom and back…unless something really was wrong with him. Was he ill? Concern rising, Blaine left the room offering vague apologises. He halted when he heard footsteps behind him, and turning, found Wes following him out the classroom.

“What, Wes?” he asked.

Wes came abreast of him. “You’re going to look for Warbler Kurt, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “He’s been gone too long. I want to make sure he’s okay. He seemed a bit off when I was talking to him.”

“For his sake, he better be sick,” Wes declared as they started walking. “Thad’s already decided that the Council needs to talk to him as soon as possible. His behaviour today has been far from acceptable.”

“Wes-“ Blaine began, only to be cut off.

“He’s been moody and unhelpful the entire day. And it’s not as if this is new for him, he’s been sully for a while now, ever since that audition I think. He needs to learn that he can’t hold the Warblers to ransom just because he doesn’t get his way. I have no idea if such theatrics were acceptable in his old school, but we will not put up with it.”

“That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?” he offered, although he could see some truth in his words. “Like I said, I think something’s wrong with him.”

“He better find a way to right it,” Wes stated grimly, a warning edge clear to his voice. “Where are we?” he added a moment later. “Are the bathrooms even down here?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine admitted. “I know he came down here. Wait, hush. Do you hear something?”

Both teenagers listened carefully, and indeed it came again, the sound of talking. The sound was slightly distorted and sounded rather echo-like, but there was no doubt that that was Kurt’s high pitched voice speaking, with a deeper voice responding in between.

Glancing down, Blaine saw the way that Wes was clenching his hands together.

“Bathroom break huh,” he muttered, as he stalked forward, Blaine close on his heels. He had a retort hot on his lips to the Asian’s angry words, but by then they had rounded the corner…and promptly stopped, because at that moment, Kurt’s voice had degenerated into a tearful babble, and even from their spot at that start of the hallway, it was clear that he was crying. Kurt and his friend were seat on the floor, their sides facing them. Neither seemed to notice their presence and roughly, Blaine grabbed Wesley and pulled him back until they were out of sight.

“I told you something was wrong,” he hissed, before hushing the older Warbler before he could say anything further. “Be quiet, I want to hear.”

And nearly ten minutes later, when he believed they had intruded more than enough and had walked away, Wes trailing behind him, Blaine wished that he had not heard anything at all. Wes too seemed almost perturbed as he trailed behind him. Neither said a word as they caught up to the remainder of the team, brushing aside David and Thad’s question as to where Kurt was. Blaine could not be bothered to answer, and so, just dropped down heavily onto his seat.

Kurt had sounded so upset, he thought sadly, the sobs the boy had made reverberating through his mind. He had not even been aware of half those things Kurt had mentioned. He had known about the bullying of course, but a death threat, a father who was apparently ill and something about a new mother? The teenager’s personal life seemed to be shot to hell. And that did not even cover what Kurt had said about Dalton. Blaine felt absolutely horrible, easily picking out in Kurt’s words he and the others had said to him. He had not meant it to be seen as criticism, merely suggestions that Kurt was best off integrating for his own benefit, but it was clear that Kurt saw it all as a personal attack against him, which, with a wince, Blaine realised it easily was. If he was on the flip side of criticism from thirteen other people, he would probably feel attacked as well. Was that why Kurt had been isolating himself from them so much?

“He isn’t back,” Wes whispered unnecessarily a few minutes later, as they clapped automatically for the penultimate group.

“Do you blame him?” Blaine retorted derisively.

Wes made no response to that. The final performance came from the New Directions. Blaine recognised the male lead as the one who had been with Kurt. But where was he, he wondered, contemplating if he had been left in the corridor. However, nearing the end of the second song, Blaine caught the way that some of the performers seemed to be throwing smiles or winks back stage and guessed that Kurt was there. He’d probably sought out his own friends rather than come back to them. He told Wes as much, who nodded in agreement. He seemed particularly tense, he saw and it was only then that he paid attention to the remnants of the performance, his gut clenching at the level of technique the dancers were exhibiting. Unbidden, a memory of Kurt warning them that their “two step shuffle” wasn’t going to cut it in a competition came to mind. Maybe they should have paid more attention to the only one among them who had actually participated in a competition. But there was no time for regrets now, he thought.

He’d talk to him on the bus, he decided, as they waited for the final three to be announced. He’d ensure that he didn’t isolate himself away and force him to talk to him about everything, even if that meant admitting to eavesdropping. Once the top three had been announced, and the Warblers found themselves being ushered onto the stage, Blaine realised that he was right. Kurt was seated among the New Directions, squashed between two girls who seemed to be fussing over him. He seemed as despondent as before, he noted, more so when the time came for them to move onto the stage. Blaine watched as he slowly and almost reluctantly approached them, before halting when the blond lead grabbed his hand again, whispering something to him. He smiled a bit then before continuing on. He heard David grumbling from behind him when Kurt stood at the edge of the group, but his disgruntlement was lost as a tie was announced. Blaine hesitated only briefly before clapping, noting that their competition were a lot more vocal. Turning to shake Thad’s hand, he saw as Kurt was all but pulled away from them and enveloped into the fold of the New Directions. Blaine was not even sure if they were celebrating the tie, or just including him in as he had until recently been a part of them. He continued to stare as Kurt was flitted about the group, at one point lifted off his feet again and spun around. Several of the other Warblers were shooting glances his way, and turning, Blaine noted how many were condemning. Maybe Kurt really was right about the way they treated him.

“Where is he going?” Thad demanded as Kurt walked off with his former team, not even throwing them a glance. “Wesley, I thought you went to set him straight?”

“Something came up,” Wes told him vaguely. “Look, we’ll talk about it on the bus, okay? Just…leave him for now.”

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“Just drop it Thad,” Blaine said forcefully.

Thad obviously caught the warning edge to his tone, and walked away to speak to some of the other Warblers. Kurt would come back to them in his own time. There bus wasn’t scheduled to come for a next thirty minutes after all. He forced Kurt out of his mind then as their chaperone arrived onto the stage, bearing the judges’ comments and offering them congratulations. Time seemed to fly pass then, and before Blaine was really aware of it, they were in the parking lot of the venue, queuing up.

“Where’s Kurt?” Andrew asked, looking around him.

“The new boy?” Miss Blanc inquired as she joined them. “He went home with his step brother and their team. He’ll be back on Monday.”

“Step brother?” Blaine thought as he made his way onto the bus. Hadn’t Kurt said that he was an only child? There seemed to be a lot of things he did not know about Kurt.

oOo

That weekend proved to be the longest in Blaine’s memory. There was a celebratory dinner at a nearby restaurant for their victory preceded by a Warblers meeting about the foreseeable future, and there was the fact that Kurt seemed determined to ignore him. It was why he was seated in front of his computer, staring at a thoroughly locked Facebook profile of Kurt, searching for any clue about the teenager. There was nothing to be found; Blaine could not even access his friend list and he was certain it would be too blatant if he sent Kurt a request right now. Sighing, he tried Kurt’s phone again, only to receive a busy tone. Well at least he was talking to somebody, he thought, closing the laptop and flopping back down on his bed. He dozed for about fifteen minutes before drowsing at a persistent knocking on his door. Calling for whoever it was to enter, he sat up as Wes closed the door and took a seat at his desk.

“What is it?” he inquired, rubbing at his eyes.

“I thought it best to inform David and Thad about what we heard about Kurt. I think it’s only fair seeing as we are meeting with him on Monday.”

“What exactly are we going to say to him?” Blaine asked, rubbing at his neck. “I mean, what we heard sort of changes things, doesn’t it? I’m not going to help you scold him if that is the plan. I think everything falls under mitigating factors.”

“Thad agrees with that,” Wes said. “He left us for a while to go talk to some of the other Warblers. No Blaine, he didn’t specifically say why he wanted to know more about Kurt, but he sure got an earful. Kurt doesn’t talk to anyone outside of Warbler practice.”

“He doesn’t speak _in_ Warbler practice,” Blaine pointed out.

“He used to talk with Nick and Jeff,” Wes continued, “but not so much in the past week or so. Jeff could confirm though that Kurt’s dad is ill. He had a heart attack about two months ago. Kurt calls him nightly. His dad did get married, it happened a little over five weeks ago.”

“But Kurt’s been at Dalton a month – oh hell,” he finished, recalling Kurt’s conversation.

It was no wonder Kurt was in such a mess. So many changes had occurred in so short a time-span and then he had transferred to a new school on top of it.

“No one knows exactly why he transferred here though,” Wes finished. “Nick said Kurt mentioned bullying, but that was the extent of it.”

“That’s about what I know as well. The jocks used to bother him a lot, and there was one particular one that seemed intent on making his life hell. But he mentioned a death threat…”

“Exaggeration?” Wes offered.

“I don’t think so,” Blaine responded, “not about that.”

“I guess not.”

“So what are we going to do about him and the Warblers?” Blaine asked tiredly.

“We do need to talk to him,” Wes stated. “But…I think the tone of it needs to change. Kurt made it clear that he believes that we dislike him and are singling him out for criticism. He also seems to think that we want him to be different.”

“That’d be my fault,” Blaine admitted. “I told him that he failed to move on in the auditions because he was just too out there…that he needed to tone it down and blend in more because we’re all about unity and cohesion. I think he took it as a personal insult.”

“Well looking at the way his old team performed explains a lot on that front,” Wes stated. “They’re the complete opposites of us. They have a guy in a wheel chair and a girl built like a tank, for god’s sake, and I swear that a good few of them weren’t even singing. But it worked for them. I could easily see Kurt standing there doing that hand thing and it would have fit right in. They’re a loud, unruly bunch, but I’ve never seen Kurt happier than when he was celebrating with them. And, there’s also the fact that he was right.”

“About what?”

“Our routine. I wasn’t going to bring it up until the next meeting, but I guess I could tell you. Kurt was right. Most of the judges’ comments revolved around the uniqueness of an all acapella group. There wasn’t anything significant about it. I think, and David agrees, we got through simply because we were a novelty. I mean, did you see what New Directions did? Flips, back springs – they _owned_ that stage.”

“And Kurt got told off when he brought that up,” Blaine finished with a dark chuckle. He remembered now; Thad had spat him that the Warblers weren’t one for cheap gimmicks and he was best off trying to learn about his new team and forgetting his old one. Now that he thought about it, it was the last time that Kurt had spoken in a meeting and he had run off as soon as it had ended. “What a mess we’ve made.”

“It’s not entirely our fault,” Wes defended.

“No?” Blaine retorted. “He was _sobbing_ Wes and he refused to come back to Dalton with us. Why? Because he was afraid he’d face censure _which was exactly what was going to happen_. We never even really stopped to consider why he had done any of it and we were ready to tear the hide off him. Yeah, I guess he acted wrong, but looking at his team Wes, he was acting the only way he knew how to. Kurt didn’t ask to come here; he was sent here. He joined the Warblers because I told him too, and what have I done since? Ignored him or else made him feel worthless. What does that make me, Wes? What does that make us? Have any of us actually tried talking to Kurt? Not about songs or routines, but just talking to see if the kid’s all right after been being dumped here? I certainly haven’t, and I was the one that promised him that Dalton was safe.”

“It is safe,” Wes countered softly.

“Yeah, he’s safe physically, but what did we do to him emotionally?”

oOo

Blaine had been looking out for Kurt since breakfast, but he did not show. It made sense though; if his dad was bringing him then he had likely eaten. It wasn’t until the lunch break though that he found Kurt, way ahead of him in the lunch line. His heart had skipped a beat at that, and in his excitement he had almost cut the line to get to him until he caught sight of Kurt’s expression. His face was painfully blank as he waded through his options, finally settling on a fruit bowl. Blaine watched as one of the servers said something to him. Kurt nodded and added a yogurt cup to his tray before moving away. Blaine forced himself to relax. Kurt would go over to the Warbler table as usual and he would talk to him there. Except he didn’t. Kurt didn’t give anyone a glance as he headed immediately for the exit.

Without a thought, Blaine left the line and followed him, catching up to him when he has already halfway down the corridor.

“Kurt!” he called, as he neared him.

Blaine saw the way Kurt tense before he turned, looking at him. “Good day Blaine.”

There were so many things Blaine could have said. Instead, he blurted out. “Did you get my message?”

Kurt nodded, not looking at him. “Three thirty, right? I’ll be there.”

“G-good,” he finished lamely. Kurt made a non-descript sound before turning away. “Aren’t you going to eat with us?” he hurried to ask,

“I have some Geometry homework due last period. Besides, I’m expecting a call. I’m guessing that there’s probably some rule against cell phones at the table, so I’ll just be in my dorm.”

There was one, but Blaine thought it prudent not to mention that at the moment. “I need to talk to you, Kurt.”

‘I’ll be in the meeting Blaine,” Kurt responded, just as his phone began ringing. “And that would be Cedes,” he muttered, grappling for his phone. “I got to go,” he said before walking off, his voice considerably more cheerful as he conversed with the person.

“Well that was a dud,” Blaine muttered as he headed back to the luncheon hall; making it up to Kurt was going to be more difficult than he thought.

oOo

“Can we do away with the table?” Blaine asked, moments after entering the room. The Council members were already there, seated at the head table. “This isn’t a court martial you know.”

“There are seats for you and him up here, you know,” Thad pointed out.

“Still intimidating,” he replied, taking a seat at one end of it. It would put him directly opposite Kurt, he saw. “What’s the general consensus?”

“There is none,” he replied. “It goes largely off how this meeting ends up.”

“We’re just going to lay the cards out on the table and see how it goes from there,” David added.

“Unless you want to admit to him that we overheard his conversation?”

“That wouldn’t go over well,” Blaine agreed. “He might assume we’re pitying him or something.”

“We’re going with the original course,” Thad decided, “although in a less…firm manner, I suppose. I think we’ve backed off on our ultimatum?”

Wes nodded. “I don’t think the shape up or ship out thing is going to go over very well, especially now that we know this isn’t him acting out, but rather who he is.”

“That sort of behaviour still isn’t acceptable though,” Thad pointed out.

“But is it our place to correct it?” David asked.

“It’d be for his own good. He won’t last long in the real world if he doesn’t learn to adjust.”

Any further response was cut off by a brisk knock on the door, before Kurt entered.

He seemed armed for battle, Blaine thought, watching as he closed the door behind him. His shoulders were squared and there was a firm set to his jaw. He seemed more lively than he had been since that lunchtime, but he was a far cry from the person he had seen being whisked up into a hug by his friends. Blaine noted the way his phone was in his hand once again, as if he had been on it moments before.

“Warbler Kurt, right on time,” Thad said by way of greeting.

Blaine noted the way Kurt’s lips twisted minutely before he nodded and moved to the seat Thad was waving him to. Kurt avoided all eyes as he sat down before crossing his arms over his chest. That didn’t bode well, he thought. If Kurt’s body language was anything to go by, it seemed like he was prepared for a fight. Usually, in shows this was the time for Kurt to ask “You wanted to see me?” but as was everything with him, things rarely went according to the script. Kurt sat there seemingly content to wait until one of them broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence in the room.

Blaine was seconds from cracking when Wes spoke up. “Warbler Kurt, you’re probably wondering why we called you hear for a reason.”

“Oh I figured it was for one thing or another,” he responded, twirling the phone in his hand. “Choose something off your list and we’ll go from there. I’m sure you have a lot of things.”

Blaine was slightly perturbed by the airy tone Kurt adopted. His entire demeanour changed slightly, the tenseness of his frame leaving. When he looked up at them it was with an expression that seemed slightly bored. (Mercedes would have labelled it his bitch face, the one that he always wore when he was either extremely peeved or extremely nervous. Neither option boded well for the recipients of it.)

“Well?” Kurt pressed, raising an imperious hand. “I do have things to do this afternoon you know. I’m going to assume this little pow-wow will be over by 4:15 because I’ll have a call to take around then.”

“You’ve been on the phone a lot today,” Blaine couldn’t help but say.

“It’s been an eventful weekend,” he replied, flipping the phone again. “Now can we start?”

All around the table seemed a bit thrown by Kurt’s behaviour. Thad recovered first. “Warbler Kurt-”

“There is no ‘Warbler’ on my birth certificate,” he interrupted.

“Kurt then,” Blaine corrected, hoping to smooth things over. “Look, the Council and I just have a couple of things we have to go through with you, okay? We’re a bit…concerned, that’s all.”

“Whatever about Blaine?” he asked sarcastically. “Do tell me. What have I done wrong this time?”

“Why are you acting like this?” Thad inquired before Blaine could respond. “You’re being quite rude W-Kurt and we’re only trying to talk to you.”

“I’m not being rude Thad,” Kurt told him, his expression smoothening. “I’m being me. If you consider that rudeness, so be it. As you’ve told me so many times, I just don’t fit in to your little mould, so hey, I’m not even going to bother to try. Now,” he continued, settling back into his seat. “Let’s talk about Friday, because I’m assuming that’s what most of this is about. I heard quite a bit of what the other Warblers were saying during study period this afternoon, so let me save us all some trouble.

“I’m an anti-social, weird, and disruptive, oh what was it, self-serving individual who needs to remove the stick I apparently have up my ass and learn some team spirit. Oh don’t look so shocked Wesley, they said ‘butt’ don’t worry. Am I missing anything? Oh, right. Apparently I broke some unwritten cardinal room by going home with my family, letting them hug me and for wandering off post performance. The latter I don’t see what the issue really is; anytime I say something in a meeting I get told to shut up or learn the status quo, so excuse me for not bothering to stick around for more of the same. Oh and I did mess up that third shuffle in the second song Wesley, you may want to add that to your list. Care to comment?”

He looked at them expectantly as he crossed one foot over the other before lacing his hands over them.

“That covers a lot of what we wanted to talk to you about,” Thad acknowledged, a terse edge to his voice.

It had more to do than Kurt’s attitude, Blaine thought, but also for the fact that the Warblers had been so careless to gossip about one of their own, seemingly while he was about. It lent even more credence to his earlier statement that Kurt felt isolated within them. Somebody was going to get a chewing out after this.

“Good,” Kurt nodded. “So, let’s hear the consequences, shall we?”

And there was that phone flip again, Blaine noted.

“That’s not really what we were gunning for with this meeting Kurt,” David told him, speaking for the first time. “We did meant to discuss this, and other matters with you, but really this meeting is not about consequences but rather an open discussion. We believe that there are some things that have been…misunderstood – a miscommunication between us which we want to have sorted out to restore balance to the team.”

“A miscommunication?” Kurt repeated.

“Yes. Let’s start with what you said, okay? We believe that you see us – the Council I mean, as an enemy to you. That really is not the case Kurt. Your opinions are very much valid and taken into consideration-“

“Which is why I’m told to stay quiet and learn to adapt,” Kurt finished wryly.

“Kurt, all contributions from members are considered-“

“Once those contributions come from the Council, Blaine and occasionally Andrew. See Thad, I am learning.”

Thad cleared his throat at that, looking both peeved and embarrassed at once. “Look Kurt, I will admit that perhaps I had been a bit sharp with you during that meeting. If you took offence to that, I apologise, it was not my intention to make you feel like your words were unwanted.”

“But they were,” Kurt shrugged. “Whatever. The Warblers managed to get a tie anyway. So who am I to question tradition? It’ll have you tying for Sectionals for the considerable future.”

“You don’t think we will win Regionals?” Blaine asked, curiously.

“No I don’t,” Kurt told them bluntly. “You and the New Directions tied because of two things. The first is that we didn’t send out our biggest power hitter to do a solo, and believe me when I say Rachel is pointing that out to Mr. Shue as we speak. The second is that a small town audience and judges found themselves completely enamoured with suit and tie wearing private school boys. That novelty won’t be there at Regionals though and you’ll find yourselves losing marks from every quarter: costume, choreography, and originality. Come back with a performance like the last one, and it’ll come down to the New Directions and whoever wins the last Sectionals to battle it out. But, the Warblers must stick by their traditions must they, traditions that I might add have never extended to competitions because, oh, before Friday, there were none.”

“Your pronoun choice are rather interesting Kurt,” Wes said suddenly, drawing attention to him.

“What?”

“You. We. Their. You’re classing yourself in with your former team,” he finished, “that’s interesting to note.”

“I am a New Directioner,” Kurt told him, “this weekend has made it abundantly clear to me. I’ve haven’t been me since I came to this place, and I’m done with that. So yeah, there is no ‘we’ when it comes to me and the Warblers, and not just because of you all always telling me that I don’t belong. You know, it bothered me so much in the beginning. Everyone was so quick to tell me, and show me how much I just don’t fit in. It was always the Warblers and the new kid. I was never a part of this team and you all never tried to hide it. Pulling me out at rehearsals, telling me to ‘tone it down’. But it’s different now, because you’re not the ones saying that I’m not a part of you. _I’m_ the one saying it and you know what, it feels so liberating. Now, what is next on the agenda?”

“Why didn’t you speak to anyone before leaving,” Thad asked bluntly, losing any hint of carefulness now. Kurt’s words were getting beneath all of their skins now, but Thad, forever a stickler seemed the one to be most affected by it.

“Mr. Shuester and I spoke to Mademoiselle Blanc. What else was required?”

“You should have told someone, Kurt,” Blaine said. “Despite what you think we cared. We were worried when you weren’t on the bus.”

“Administration and the chaperone were informed,” Kurt replied. “Nothing more was needed.”

“It shows respect.”

“You’re students,” he threw at Thad, stressing on the last word. “Being in charge of a club does not give you staff status. In the same way that you have no right to demand that I remain at Dalton on weekends for Warbler practice. You can trust that that won’t be happening again. Next issue?”

“You’ve separated yourself from the rest of us Warblers,” David said, stressing his intonation on ‘us’.

“We’ve covered that already,” Kurt responded. “I do speak to Nick and Jeff occasionally. I guess we outcasts need to stick together,” he finished with a falsely cheerful grin. “What else?”

“Your attitude,” Thad snapped, “all of it. This now, the sulkiness from before. I won’t stand for it. You’re doing nothing but making the remaining members of this team uncomfortable.

“Thad’s just being a bit strongly worded,” Blaine interjected, indirectly reminding Thad of what they had decided upon earlier, although now he himself was feeling quite annoyed (and a tad amazed) at Kurt. If it wasn’t for him remembering the way he had been sobbing in that hallway, Blaine would have been joining them in tearing the hide off Kurt for this display.

“I mean every word of it Blaine,” Thad snapped before glaring at Kurt. “You were sulking that we did not push you forward to the next round of the audition.”

“I’ll interrupt there,” Kurt said, cutting him off. “I was not sulky. I was disappointed, as I think I have the right to be, especially since there was absolutely nothing wrong with what I sang. Your problem from what I garnered was _me_ and my actions that define who I am. I feel fully justified to be concerned and saddened when who I am is the reason I was denied a chance to continue forward. Here was supposed to be different from McKinley, but hey, I guess it’s the same old, same old wherever in Ohio I go. Next?”

“Kurt,” Blaine said in an injured tone. Was he truly going to compare Dalton to that place?

“I really don’t have anything to say to you right now, Blaine,” Kurt told him softly. “I don’t even know why you’re here actually. So gentlemen, have we failed to cover anything?”

“I don’t see the point of saying anything further,” Thad declared. “It’s clear that you aren’t taking this seriously and I won’t waste my time. Speak if you have to Wes, David. My original thoughts stand.”

“I don’t have anything to add,” David said quietly.

Wes sighed. “This meeting was supposed to be a meshing ground Kurt. We knew-assumed that you had a lot going on and we were hoping we could work out some solutions, find a way for the Warblers to help you adjust better, both in the club and out of it.”

“Nice of you to do that _weeks_ into me being here,” Kurt said with a smile, “but then again, it’s the thought that counts. So, what’s these thoughts David has hmm? I’ve about five minutes left to spare.”

“That you need to shape up or ship out,” Thad declared, throwing down the gauntlet. “Look we were going to try to be understanding, given that you were crying and everything, but that’s over with. This behaviour’s deplorable, so you Kurt have a decision to make.”

“Wait, what’s this about crying?” Kurt asked, looking unnerved for the first time.

“Wes and I came looking for you Kurt,” Blaine admitted after glaring at Thad. “We saw you in the hall with that blonde guy. We sort of heard what you were saying.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt gasped, expression fixed between embarrassment and anger. “You were there and you- oh my god,” he repeated, his hand clenching around his phone.

“Kurt,” Blaine hurried to reassure. “Look, we didn’t mean to. We were going to speak to you anyway, but when we saw how you were and what you said –“

“Oh great, so you see the freak crying so let’s have a meeting to pretend we care,” he half shouted, rising to his feet. “Oh my god, I cannot believe you guys.”

“Kurt, it was a mistake,” he said desperately, rising as well.

“No, Blaine,” Kurt snapped, his face red as he spoke. “A mistake is seeing me and Sam like that. But you _stayed_ and you _listened_. I- I can’t believe you did that.”

“I wanted to help. You’ve been acting so strange.”

“Because of _you_ ,” Kurt shouted. “Because of you and this flip flop behaviour. All of you. One minute this is such a great accepting school. No one’s going to judge you, everyone is great and wonderful, then I come here and I get judged every second. I can’t decide which is worse. Wait, I know which is, _here_. At least at McKinley I didn’t have to wonder about who hated me.”

“Nobody hates you Kurt.”

“And _you_ ,” Kurt continued, “you with your whole, come join the Warblers Kurt. It’s fun, and great. Of course it’s great for _you_ ; you sing all the songs, you decide what you want to do with your friends and you help police anyone who dares even hint at trying to break that up. Oh don’t look at me like that. It’s true; Nick and Jeff have auditioned at least twelve times combined and even if they don’t suit whatever song you’ve chosen, there’s no way you all could have worked something for them to sing? If they’re so terrible why are they in the club in the first place? Why am I even here? Oh Kurt, great audition; your voice is unique. Now shut up and harmonise…try to lower that register okay?”

Blaine could only gape at the pure anger radiating off of Kurt. The teenager gave him a final disgusted look before turning back to the teenagers at the table. “You know what. I’m done. I knew I was from the moment I came into this room and saw you all sitting here like glorified dictators. I did not come to Dalton, I did not come to this club for _this_. So I guess I’m shipping out Thad, completely.”

“You can’t just quit, Kurt.”

“Watch me Blaine,” he said with a slightly hysterical laugh. “I’m done, done with the Warblers and as soon as I convince my dad, I’m done with this school. I’ll take jocks with homicidal tendencies over this any day. I thought living in fear was hell, but no, this is it. Being surrounded by a group of fake people trying to force me into conforming is the real hell. And to think I was letting you. No. I’ll talk my dad into home schooling me if he insists I can’t go back, but I hope that he doesn’t because I am looking forward to watching my odd, non-conforming self wipe the floor with your pretentious asses at Regionals. And you better collect that damn bird before I feed him to the nearest cat.”

And with that last statement, Kurt (with a flounce that would make Rachel envious) flounced out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt prided himself on the attributes he had received from his mother. Indeed, every time his dad shot him  _that_  look, the one that was mostly affectionate but occasionally tinged with sadness, Kurt felt just a little warmer inside. Losing her at eight was hard and the more time passed, the less he remembered of her. If it was not for that Christmas video they had shot when he had been seven, Kurt was not certain he would even recall the sound of her voice, the tinkle of her laughter that he had inherited.

But there was one thing Kurt wished that he had not inherited from her just at the present moment – her pacifist nature. His parents had been opposites in that way. She had been slow to anger,  _really_  slow, and it was quickly spent. According to his dad, he had only seen her lose control three times in their time together, and every one of those moments had been justifiable. Burt however? His temper boiled at the slightest aggravation. Time had tempered it, but it still exploded from him in vicious bursts, especially when it related to some slight against his family. Kurt hadn't been at all surprised when Puck had come across his dad with Karofsky pinned against a wall, Burt's well-muscled forearm to his throat. His dad had been enraged when the truth had finally emerged.

Kurt was a mixture of the two of them. He had remarkable control of his temper, but he was a force to be reckoned with when someone set him off. That was what had happened during that meeting with the Warbler council. Kurt considered his rage perfectly justifiable. It was clear that no-one had ever spoken up to them ever and he relished being the first. But, within minutes of leaving the room his rage was spent, replaced by the guilt his father often spoke of his mother having. Just like her, he regretted his anger, not because of what he had said (that was fully deserved) but for the situation that led to him being angry in the first place. He could not help but wonder if there was anything he could have done to avoid it. Talked to his guidance counsellor first? Listened to what Blaine had had to say that lunchtime? Not let his emotions overwhelm him? Any of those might have offset what had happened.

But it was too late for that now. They had said things, he had said things, and now he was once again a free-agent. He flipped his phone absentmindedly as he dropped down onto his bed. He was glad now that he had the room all to himself. He didn't know what he would do if he had had to explain everything to a roommate. He knew that some of his threats would not pan out. There was no way that his dad was going to let him leave Dalton. For one there was the no-refund policy, but more importantly, what other option did he have? McKinley was out for obvious reasons. Carmel's record was almost as bad as McKinley's. Safety would only be assured if he joined Vocal Adrenaline, and there was no way in hell he was doing that. And home-schooling was just boring. He had finished his school year at home after his mom's death; he didn't want to repeat the experience. That meant that for all intents and purposes, he was stuck here until at least the end of his junior year. What a wonderful eight months that promised to be.

His phone rang then, distracting him from the dreary thought. A smile crept onto his lips as he brought the phone to his ear.

"Sam," he breathed, wishing his voice had not cracked the way it had.

"What happened?" he asked without preamble.

There was a slight echo in the background; he was probably in the locker room.

"What you should be asking is what didn't happen," he said with a shaky chuckle.

With little prompting, he recalled the events that had happened a little less than an hour ago. Sam was silent until he finished. Kurt wasn't that surprise when the first thing he heard from him was an explicit.

"Are you okay?" he asked next, his voice slightly strained.

Kurt was thrown by the question, but recovered quickly. "I'm tired Sam, just tired. I mean they eavesdropped on us. They want me to conform, and Thad blamed everything on me. I mean come on, I know I'm not the easiest person in the world to get along with, but it's not my fault that they're just so insufferable at times. And Blaine,  _Blaine_. How could he just sit there and let them attack me like that? Why didn't he defend me?"

Sam was quiet from a beat. Then, "From what you said he didn't seem to be part of the attack."

"He wasn't," Kurt admitted with a sigh, rolling onto his stomach. "But silence is complacency, isn't it? He didn't add to what they were saying, but neither did he really say in my favour, you know. And it hurts, because-"

"You like him," Sam finished, when Kurt hesitated, "and you kind of hoped that he liked you too."

Kurt's throat went dry. He had never openly admitted it to anyone before, and yet Sam had gleaned that from him after just a few days.

"Don't worry, it's not that obvious. I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been pinning over Quinn the same way."

"For all of two days," Kurt scoffed to hide his embarrassment.

"So what are you going to do?"

"About Blaine?"

"About everything."

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm out of the Warblers; there's no way around that."

"Explain what happened with your guidance counsellor. I still don't think that they have the right to do what they did."

"I will," Kurt promised. "After today, I agree with you."

"I'm sure you'll find some other club to join. You're talented."

He scoffed softly. "I'm thinking about the art club. I haven't done more than design clothes since Middle School, but I used to be a pretty good portrait and landscape painter. Maybe I'll do one of you sometime."

"I'd like that," Sam answered warmly.

Kurt smiled despite himself, his legs pumping idly in the air now that his anger was completely spent. "Enough about me for now," he ordered seconds later. "Tell me about you. I mean, how are you going? Everything's been about me so far."

"Everything should be about you sometime."

Kurt chuckled, feeling a faint tinge colour his cheeks. No wonder Quinn fell for him so fast. "But now it's you time," he re-directed.

"Fine," Sam said, affecting a most put-out tone that had Kurt laughing outright.

"You're so silly!"

"If it helps you laugh like that, I'll be as silly as I have to be."

Kurt made a happy sound, scratching behind his neck. "I won't be misdirected, Mr. Evans," he told him firmly, "now tell me about your day."

oOoOoOo

Tuesday proved to be a very hectic day for Kurt. His half an hour appointment with his guidance counsellor turned into a two-hour affair. Dalton's policy towards students really was enforced, he had realised within a few minutes. She actually took notes about what he said and re-read it to him to ensure accuracy, quizzed him on nearly every meeting he could remember attending, and took names of other students whom had experienced a situation similar to Kurt's. He was both gratified and somewhat puzzled by the depth of the woman's concerns for him. All he had really wanted was to get her approval to join a next club, but once he had had explained the reason behind it, it seemed like all hell had broken loose.

He didn't regret it a bit.

When he finally left the meeting room he was feeling slightly more optimistic about Dalton. She had been right; he should not paint all of Dalton's populace because of his interactions with a few. After all, he reminded himself, Nick and Jeff really weren't that bad, and Blaine initially had been quite promising. He had agreed with her suggestion that he'd give the school a second chance. Students aside, Dalton was proving beneficial to him academic wise. He'd never been so challenged mentally before this. It would suck like hell if he ended up having to become  _that_  student, the near nerd who spent all of his time in the library because he had no friends. But if it helped him get out of Ohio faster, he'd deal with it.

On Wednesday he sat in on the Art Club. He wasn't too good with painting, and he had been sceptical that they'd accept someone into the club who did nothing but sketch outfits, but within a few minutes of handing over his sketch pad, he was welcomed and paired off with a senior named Eric who was applying to Fashion schools all over the country. By the end of the session, Kurt was tentatively certain that he had found his new club, and an invitation to help design the costumes for the End of Term performance. But he'd cement his decision after he checked out the Debate club. Sam was his constant companion throughout all of this; they texted back and forth throughout the whole day, and Sam had already claimed his Saturday afternoon for (and he had actually drum rolled before saying) something he would not reveal until that day.

Kurt chuckled softly just thinking about it, a smile playing at his lips as he started climbing the spiral staircase, only to stop short when he found himself staring up at Blaine.

"Kurt," Blaine said after a moment, his expression guarded. "I haven't seen you since…"

"Monday," Kurt finished softly, his tone flat. He had not seen him since he had stormed out of the meeting, and honestly, had had not planned to speak to him again. Not until he had sorted out the conflicted feelings he had towards him. Fate wasn't on his side.

Blaine fidgeted slightly, showing the nervousness that Kurt was feeling. "I haven't seen you around lately."

It was actually a rather silly thing to say given that they shared no classes together and their lunch hours did not coincide. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him this, but he restrained himself. Sam was right. He had – did have – a crush on Blaine, and not even the events of the past few days could completely eradicate the kernel of warmth he still had for him.

"I've been busy," he replied instead, offering a small shrug. God, it was like the first time they had spoken to each other all over again, "with…stuff."

"Finding new clubs," Blaine said, almost sadly.

"Yeah."

Blaine sighed, looking down briefly before meeting his gaze. "Look Kurt, can we just…talk for a moment? I-I just. Things were just so crazy, and, I just wanted to tell you that… I'm so sorry Kurt."

Kurt scratched at his arm to buy a moment. There it was again, that emotional, earnest voice that had first enamoured him to Blaine in the first place. "Sorry for what?" he asked tersely, forcibly reminding himself of the humiliation he had felt when the Council admitted to knowing of his sob-fest with Sam.

"For…for what happened on Monday for a start," he said. "I mean, it got completely out of hand. I wished they had just listened to me in the first place and let me talk to you without all the formality. Then I could have explained-"

"You aren't a member of the Council Blaine," Kurt sighed. "It was never your responsibility to talk to me."

"But you're my friend," he replied, before deflating slightly. "And yeah, you're right Kurt. I'm not on the Council, but, you're new Kurt. You don't understand how things work. I'm not  _allowed_  to be on the Council because I'm not a Junior student. Everyone knows that it's the only reason, so they tend to just act as if that technicality doesn't exist. I didn't realise though how it looked from the outside until you…pointed it out. But that's our structure Kurt. The Council are the leads of the club in all things regards, including performances. But I admit that maybe things got a bit out of hand in terms of the ratio of song distributions, but it's something that will be addressed when admin decides the fate of the Warblers."

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard?" Blaine asked with a soft laugh. "The club has been suspended pending administrative review. All of the members are being interviewed to determine the truth of what has been said about our system."

"You mean what I said," Kurt corrected, not realising that his conversation with the counsellor would have so far-reaching an effect.

Blaine shrugged before changing the topic. "That's irrelevant for now. It's not what I wanted to talk about. What I want to talk about is you…us. Look, I have done nothing but think about what you said to me that day, and what I saw during Sectionals. And I realised that I failed you Kurt, in so many ways that I have no right to even talk to you right now, or hope that you can forgive me for it, but I hope that you can. I'm so sorry Kurt. I didn't realise what you were going through, I would have done something if I had known. I promised you that Dalton would be good for you, but I'm the one that's made it miserable for you. I'm so sorry."

Blaine's voice cracked on that last line, and his entire countenance radiated abject misery that Kurt barely resisted the urge to reach out and comfort him. He swallowed, feeling his anger toward him recede as he processed his words and the honesty in his voice. Blaine had hurt him, had caused him so much pain, but he wasn't the first person to have done so, and perhaps he would not be the last. Hadn't he both fought and repaired his friendships with numerous members of New Directions so many times? Would doing the same for Blaine be that different? It wouldn't, but he was also quite tired of forgiving. He bit at his lip as he considered it.

"You did hurt me," he stated softly, "really badly. I trusted you. I barely knew you, but I trusted you from the start. And you hurt me."

"I did," Blaine replied sadly.

Kurt sighed, considering his own feelings and what Sam had told him. He did like Blaine, he really did. And in those weeks before he had come to Dalton, Blaine had been a godsend, giving him strength and courage in a way he had never thought possible before this. And everyone made mistakes, so everyone deserved a second chance, even if they had hurt him.

"You're also the first person to admit to me that you were wrong," he said after a moment, letting a hint of a smile cross his lips, "and I appreciate that. I truly do."

Blaine's expression brightened. "Thank you Kurt."

"Hold on," Kurt directed, raising a staying hand. "You can't just say sorry and expect things to be right between us."

"Kurt."

"Look, I'm not saying that we can't try again. I want to, I really do want to, but I need time."

"Okay, okay. I can live with that. I really do like you Kurt. I just…wanted you to fit in."

"The way you had to," Kurt guessed. "Blaine, you're as much as a victim of all this as I am, aren't you?"

"Kurt, what are you-?"

"I see it now," Kurt continued, interrupting him. "You're different when you're not in that club. When it's just me and you you're goofy, open and just…happy. You let them get to you. Let them chip away at your layers until they made you into whatever they wanted."

"I didn't conform, Kurt," Blaine retorted, although to Kurt's ears, his voiced seemed a little strained. "The Warblers offered me a sanctuary after I got here, and that is what I wanted for you. That's all I wanted for you, to give you the safe haven I found here."

"Safe haven from what?"

Blaine shuffled his foot, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Kurt was just about to recant, tell him that he did not have to answer a question he was uncomfortable with, when he answered. "You're not the only one who had bullies to face Kurt. And I'm sorry if we're not all as resilient as you, able to bounce back to yourself once you're out of the situation. Coming to Dalton gave me a chance to start over, as whomever I wanted to be, and this is who I became. I'm sorry if that's a problem for you."

"If this was you Blaine, the  _real_  you, it'd be the only thing I see. But it isn't. This, what you  _think_  you are, isn't the real you. And I have no idea why you won't admit it. But at least now I know why you were so eager to help me before."

"I just wanted to give you the help I never had."

"And I was – am – grateful for it. But I don't need your help any more Blaine, your protection. But I do want you to be my friend."

"You do?" Blaine asked, choking slightly.

And it was at that moment that Kurt realised that he really did want him as a friend. Blaine was sort of like Sam in that way. A person whom he had never expected to be a part of his life, but now, once he had insight into the person he really was beneath that surface, he was intrigued. Something told him that Blaine could be a good fit in his life,  _if_  he was willing to be himself. It wasn't something he expected could happen immediately, but he was willing to try.

"I do Blaine, I really do," he said sincerely. And the smile that graced Blaine's face was enough to bring a smile to his as well.

Perhaps things would work out fine for the both of them in the end.

oOoOo

"And that's the whole story," Kurt finished with a flourish of his hand, before taking a long drag out of his latte.

"I'm impressed," Sam replied after a moment, cradling his own drink. "In less than two weeks Blaine's moved back from being enemy to friend."

"I know it's strange," Kurt said with a laugh, "I feel the same way, but it's getting back to the way it was before this whole Warbler fiasco."

"So things are better for you?"

Kurt rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Yes and no. I've settled down into the classes and I absolutely adore the clubs I'm in, but I'm also enemy number one to most of the Warblers now."

"But you said the club was reinstated?"

"Without the so-called democratic system they followed before. The Council was disbanded, all of the members reprimanded and they now have a faculty adviser. The counsellor asked me if I wanted to re-join, but I can do without that level of hate."

"If they don't like you Kurt that is their issue not yours. From where I sit, you're pretty awesome."

Kurt gave a startled laugh and looked down, embarrassed. When he looked up, Sam was perusing him with a searching look that brought a flush to his cheeks. "Stop that you," he demanded, embarrassed. Sam laughed at that, but broke the look to take a bite out of his pastry.

"Teasing you is fun," he remarked a few minutes later, "Especially when you're happy like this. I always want you to be happy Kurt."

"And I want that for you too," Kurt said sincerely, resting his hand over Sam's. "You've been so wonderful to me throughout all of this Sam. I don't think I could have done any of this without you."

"You would have found a way eventually."

"No, I wouldn't have. Not without you."

"We'll go around in circles if we keep this up," Sam huffed.

"Then accept that you've been good to me."

"And I hope that I'll continue to be," Sam returned sincerely.

There was silence for a bit as they both finished their respective meals.

"You know," Kurt said eventually, "my dad always tells me stories about this little diner over in Westerville where he met my mom. I always told myself that I'd have to tell my kids similar stories as well. You know, make it a sort of family tradition."

"Oh?" Sam said curiously.

"Yeah, well it's going to be a bit different now. I always assumed that I'd be telling them about their dad, you know?"

"You won't anymore?"

"No. Well maybe I will. But the first story, the most important one, is going to be about my first time here in the Lima Bean with a friend called Sam."

"Uncle Sam," he corrected with a grin. "I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon."

Kurt smiled happily at that. He wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
